Difference between revisions of "Logs:What's Under The Hood"

Ellerey's not a big eater, but today, the tall, leggy greenrider can be found already sitting down at some random place (note: NOT at her Wing's table), and eating her fill of whatever the Kitchen has out this early evening. The roll in her hand is the first and favored piece of chow, slathered with butter and bitten into as if every nip will be her last. MmmmmM! On occasion, dark eyes move around to check out the growing crowd, but otherwise, nothing's unusual.

Lanky and with a tray overflowing, hazel eyes rest on the space near the greenrider, and Ghena drops her tray with a soft thunk, "Mind if I sit here?" Not that the brunette waits for a reply, tucking into her meal immediately. Children have a different feeding schedule than adults; it is well into dinner time for Lyrisa who is seated on her father's lap at a mostly empty table. Mashed tubers, minced meat, some loose peas-- All of it has been mashed into C'ris' riding jacket by the littler redhead that he has to deal with on a daily basis. She babbles happily, mostly, rather than finishing her meal, rarely forming any words. Yet, the bluerider is paying close attention to everything she says, responding whenever there seems to be a lull in the words. His own early meal has grown cold, almost untouched as his hands are busy keeping his daughter in place and eating.

"Mph?" is all that can escape Ellerey's mouth at this point to Ghena's inquiry, the greenrider first peering at the bluie, then shrugging her shoulders, and nodding. Feel free. If Ghena expects conversation, however, she'll be disappointed, as Elle finishes her roll, and sets in on what looks like a kind of chicken pot pie, the smell of which is heavenly. Oh, and HOT. Not yet daring to take a bite of her forkful, Elle settles for blowing on the steamy stuff, and trying not to salivate. Muttered to nobody in particular: "Jays, I'm starving." Intense, dark brown eyes bored rove the filling cavern, and seem to chuckle silently at a glimpse of C'ris trying to get his child to eat instead of babble, then returning to her own food. Blooooow-blowww-blow...test. Just barely edible, though it stings her lips, Elle inhales the bite, chews very gingerly, takes a quick sip of juice to make it easier to eat.

Ghena smirks, "You act like you haven't eaten in days." Her own hazel gaze drifting over to father and child, unable to completely suppress a smirk. "Gotta wonder sometimes what goes through folks heads when they decide to spawn. I mean the kid's adorable, but - " lifting her mug of Klah.

"*Feels* like I haven't..." Ellerey mumbles around her food, the woman again shrugging. "Guess it's just one of those off days." As she carefully eats, Ghen's words of C'ris draw her attentino back to the male bluerider and his spawn, Elle smirking broadly and shaking her head. "I think I might want one when I'm older...maybe." Because cute and HERS, but also loud and dirty. "Isn't that the Weyrlingmaster's weyrmate?"

Ghena arches a brow, but shrugs. "I think so, mind, been ages since I was a weyrling." She squints at the parent and child. "Fuck that; my parents spawned more than I care to count. Still almost makes ya Jealous of Quinlys doesn't it?" The bluerider licking her lips as she bites into a crusty roll.

Entering the caverns in the midst of a conversation, T'zur's talking vividly to J'nason, gesturing at the older bronzerider as he walks: "So did I tell you about this girl from the other night? She was, uh, pretty, and mm, nice." Clearly, he needs to work on the whole storytelling aspect. "But then she got all weird after -- why do they always have to get weird?" he exhales a sigh, folding arms across his chest. Given it's early enough that there's no line, he heads directly for the food tables, casting a glance around the sparsely occupied tables as he walks.

"Well, did you give her a reason to be weird?" Playboy J'nason could be, but he's not immune to the fact that men can suck just as much as guys. He keeps up with the bronzer up to the foodline. "Fish. I miss fish." @emit "I was in this last class..." Ellerey mutters informatively in return, the tall woman finally stopping eating for a moment to look at first kidlette, then C'ris. A sudden easy bit of a lascivious look eases over the greenie's face, altering into a nod and chortle. "He sure is a pretty boy. The kid should be a heartbreaker." Taking after both of her parents. Then it's time for more food...and another roving of brown eyes, which finally happen to catch J'nason and T'zur yakking with one another as they get into line. Grunted to Ghena in an aside between forkfuls of pot pie, "Those two aren't too bad, either. Not quite as nice, but..." Shrug, smirk. Her chin jerks out towards the pair of bronzeriders to give the female bluerider a frame of reference. "I think they're new, right?"

"I was in this last class..." Ellerey mutters informatively in return, the tall woman finally stopping eating for a moment to look at first kidlette, then C'ris. A sudden easy bit of a lascivious look eases over the greenie's face, altering into a nod and chortle. "He sure is a pretty boy. The kid should be a heartbreaker." Taking after both of her parents. Then it's time for more food...and another roving of brown eyes, which finally happen to catch J'nason and T'zur yakking with one another as they get into line. Grunted to Ghena in an aside between forkfuls of pot pie, "Those two aren't too bad, either. Not quite as nice, but..." Shrug, smirk. Her chin jerks out towards the pair of bronzeriders to give the female bluerider a frame of reference. "I think they're new, right?"

To High Reaches dragons, Virisceth projects: Inside her couch, curled up and dozing deeply, Virisceth dreams of dark fire and steaming metal gears, which move from 1st gear into 2nd. Nobody can see the very subtle glow of her dark hide brighten a little more.

C'ris remains oblivious that he might be drawing attention through Lyrisa's antics, and is thus unable to tell Ellery or Ghena that Quinlys would likely protest at the use of the word weyrmate. "No, Lyri, no," he tries to insist firmly as the baby wiggles insistently, trying to escape from his lap. But apparently the man has no backbone, because it's only another minute before he agrees, "Ok, fine. Just for a minute, ok? No crawling away." Gently, she is put onto the stone floor, where she sits happily. For now.

Ghena laughs, "Shit, you are probably right. the weyr is doomed." Quinlys gets all the luck. Her attention is shifted to the two newcomers and she mms. "The blond looks yummy enough, but the other one is a touch on the scrawny side don't you think? I mean what kind of stamina can you expect outta a guy that looks like that."

To High Reaches dragons, Mivength could care less what Virisceth dreams about. He is above this, all of this. It is a practiced disinterest from the blue dragon, all sharp edges and casual attitude.

"No," T'zur responds vehemently to his wingmate. "I mean, like, of course not." The fact that he sounds overly defensive might negate the vehement of the denial. There's not that much of a line and therefore not much of a wait, given it's early, and he's quick to take advantage, selecting lots of meats and stacking it onto a plate once they reach the front. "Fish?" he says, surprised. "Thought you'd be sick of it. It's practically all you ate at Ista, right?"

To High Reaches dragons, Tziveth's ever watchful, the feel of his presence little more than that slight shadow at the corner of the eye, or a momentary feeling of someone close by. While mentally silent, his physical presence up on the rim of the bowl is becoming more and more common, though he's not the only dragon taking advantage of the perch tonight.

An easy laugh peals from the usually slightly-reserved Ellerey's lips at Ghena's first words, her dark-curled head shaking a couple of times as they watch C'ris handle his progeny. As for the bronzers, a thoughtful eye turns to them, and soon Elle is shrugging again, replying to Ghena, "Scrawny doesn't necessarily mean weak or no stamina. My cousin is scrawny...lanky. But he's tough...and a runner for our traders." Former traders, that is. Spoken more frankly than usual: "The proof's in the pudding...or in this case, the bed." Smirk.

To High Reaches dragons, Knoith's brassy drums beat slowly in the background, the clink and shimmer of armor flickering sleepily at the edges.

J'nason eyes his friend's vehemence, THEY WILL TALK ABOUT THAT LATER T'zur. With a, cough, blow-by-blow. Tonight though, FISH. "Yes, fish. It's delicious. Do you realize we're being spoken about?" He jerks his head slightly towards the gossips over there. "Why don't we go crash their party?"

There's so many greens even in a post-Pass Weyr that it's nearly impossible to hone in on where the scent of one particular one might be coming from. How like Virisceth, who enjoys hidden, dark places, like remaining hidden until... (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth projects « Ugh. All the talking. »

Ghena blinks at Ellerey. "You fucked your cousin?" Because this is of course what she takes from that statement as she watches the men who are now being eyed like a meal. "I'd still prefer the blonde."

T'zur studiously avoids J'nason's telling look, although he undoubtedly knows its happening, because: "Planning to get together with some of the wing tonight and drink." The fact that it will neatly avoid any deep and meaningful talks with his fellow bro has nothing to do with it. "But they taste all... fishy," the former Bendenite adds, with a wrinkle of his nose, as he steps away and casts about for a spot to sit. It's J'nason's drawing of attention towards the table that gets a surprised rising of eyebrows. "Huh. How can you tell?" he queries in an undertone, as he directs their path as suggested towards the other pair of riders.

Gossip? Ellerey is so *not* a gossip! Truth. Except for now, when what's being paraded before her eyes is so suddenly more interesting than usual. So delicious...rather like the food on her plate, which is starting to be shoveled into the greenie's maw faster, more ravenously. Wait; huh? There's surprise, and sudden outrage at Ghena's inquiry, Elle jerking her gaze over to glare hotly at the bluerider. "I most certainly did *not*..." is hissed darkly. "Those who think like you give Weyrfolk an even worse reputation than they alreay have outside of it." Jerk. At this point, she doesn't care who Ghena prefers of the boys, Ellerey stabbing at her pot pie as if it somehow is going to attack her if she doesn't get to it, first. If she hears the two bronzeriders speak of coming over, Elle doesn't give any hint.

"That's because they are fish," J'nason says this super carefully, and with all the feeling. Fish is suppose to taste like fish. "Add a touch of butter..." And he'll roll his eyes up and make a fish-is-heaven-food face. Reaching out for a roll J'nason takes a bite before dropping it onto the plate. "They keep looking over at your body."

Ghena blinks at Ellerey's outburst again. "Shells, what was I supposed to think when you lead with a statement about your cousin when we were talking about getting the most out of bedding someone?" She squints at the now stabbed potpie. "Touch-y"

1st gear, it's alright, 2nd gear, hang on tight, 3rd gear... Not quite out of sight, since Virisceth has so MANY gears, but the hissing and steaming and gelatinous oils that surround them are in sure motion, by now. Within her couch, the wicked woman with the night-dark green hide trembles, slowly surfaces towards consciousness, the creases that barely begin to show her eyes slitting to a warning red. (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

Swords against shields, the beat of marching boots against blood soaked ground. The sound of impending battle builds. (to High Reaches dragons from Knoith)

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth hrumps. Needs an oil change.

T'zur's roll of eyes towards the ceiling expresses his sentiment on the topic of fish fairly clearly. "Fine, fine. I know what to bribe you with next time I want to swap dawn shifts," he's muttering under his breath. "We ca-- what?" the bronzerider glances at J'nason as if to try and determine if his leg's being pulled, before he squints back at the pair. "C'mon," he says, with a nudge of his shoulder into the other Glacier rider's, "Let's go see."

"You were *supposed* to show some class, and an inkling of brains..." Ellerey responds testily to Ghena, the usually eqitable woman now developing a red stain - and not one of embarrassment - at her throat. One of her hands is knuckling up now and again, and to try and cover her odd anger, more food is now wolfed down. Screw good table manners. Her angry stare even gets turned onto the bronzeriders who seem to be approaching, but with *them*, it's also mixed with something less wicked (or maybe more?): eagerness. Come into my parlor... And, with no really obvious precursors, Virisceth is fully awake, and streaming out of her lair like a coil of night - and nightmares - itself. Dark and starry claws clenched tightly into the rock of her ledge scrape and screech, while sickly, oily wings spread wide to catch the last rays of Spring sunlight. And there it is: a stentorian bellow of challenge and desire, unleashed loudly enough to let the entire Weyr know just what she's up to. Fuck the feeding grounds, too; those are for lesser greens. For just a moment, Viri allows her large, yet sinuous form to pose seductively up on her ledge: look what you must earn, paltry, pretty males! Come into MY web. And up she goes, like firecracker/bottlerocket.

One moment, C'ris is sitting and trying to poke at his plate while keeping an eye on his daughter. Then the next-- "NO. No, no," and he's not talking to his daughter, even as he snatches her up into her arms. He is mumbling even as he hurries out of the living cavern and past the bronzeriders, "I swear to Faranth-- Think of Lyrisa--." The rest of his conversation falls into silence with his dragon, even as Lyrisa resumes babbling herself.

For a moment, Mivength loses his dry, sarcastic mask. Interest peeks through his thoughts, something more romantic and vulnerable showing as he reaches out tendrils towards Virisceth as she goes up. But slowly, slowly, they are withdrawn. (To High Reaches dragons from Mivength)

J'nason needs exactly zero encouragement to turn his feet towards the pair that are totally checking him out. The flash of passion rocks through the bronzerider as the green abruptly awakens and Hephaisth, for all his prickly demeanor, is all there. "Want to reprise the last flight?" Lightly as he keeps moving in the direction they were going in.

Preening vainly - so unlike her regular self - Virisceth the silent offers up nightmare oils and fluids, creaks and groans and screeching twists of warping metal to the males of her Weyr: « Are you good enough, my males? Come follow me into the darkness... » And the offer of her wings and tail to twine with. (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

"Cattiness doesn't become - " Ghena never gets to finish her sentence. Brassy and bold the silver blue launches into the sky after, echoing the challenge as wings beat against the spring air with fervor. "Aw fuck." Flushed suddenly with desire for the now pissed off greenrider. Sorry J'nason. Knoith is only the beat of drums and the clash of swords as he launches into the frey.

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth is cranking himself up from the repose of the evening. « Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. » Her engine can't be at optimal with all that grime. Get a cloth, girl.

The fact that T'zur's picking up small pieces from his plate he can shove down his throat suggests he's hungry enough not to wait for the polite 'sitting at the table' thing; he's eyeing Ellerey and Ghena with equal parts interest and wariness. He slows, head cocked, gaze distant for a moment, before he exhales sharply, eyes refocusing on Ellerey, now. "Hope the twins are up for it," is all he mutters, stalking with determination towards the greenrider.

To High Reaches dragons, Tziveth, on the rim of the bowl, has somewhat of an advantage. Lidded, whirling eyes take note of Virisceth's abrupt rise, and when he, too, launches into the sky, he's the advantage of air already under her wings. Even though he's on the smaller side for a bronze, he doesn't have near the quickness of a green, though, but darkness is his domain, not hers: and so he rises to the challenge without a second thought.

What. The. FUCK?!? That's the sudden look all over Ellerey's features in her huge eyes as her utensils are dropped with a clatter, and her chair shoved back as she jerks to a tall stand. "Viri... NO!" Out of habit, the greenrider is assuming her wild and sometime dangerous lifemate is meaning to attack somebody, something. And honestly, she is: the air itself, as pinions slash at it to raise her fast and furious up into the twilight sky. Staggering, the woman finally puts two and two together, and without a backwards glance at whoever might be watching her or following her, scrambles wildly towards that one special weyr Quinlys informed all of them about, so long ago. "Stay away from me!" is shrilled back at any who follow too close.

"What about your new... friend?" J'nason was totally about to sit down with his food before the greenrider changes direction and scrambles towards the doorway. "Damn, I was hungry." Alas, he'll just have to put his tray down on the nearest table and snatch up a roll from his plate as he follows her. "Why do they always yell that?" Says the person who's never ridden a female dragon.

Sneaky Tziveth! She hates/likes that! Virisceth stomps on the acellerator to put more distance between the canny bronze and herself, while calling lustfully over her shoulder to Knioth. Silly blue. Does anyone else dare her alien darkness, those wicked claws and too-sharp teeth? A few more seem to - a pair of browns and another blue - which only further encourages Virisceth to coat all her further, non-verbal communications with oil and goo and lubricants. So slippery, so delicious, so dangerous, so difficult to catch! (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

"Who?" T'zur asks, blankly. The food is... was important until moments ago, but Tziveth's need overrides his, and T'zur abandons his still full plate on the table. The smile that lights his face is genuine, determined and focused: despite Ellerey's warning, the bronzerider's hot on her heels, snorting with amusement at J'nason's words. "Fuck if I know. What are we going to do, go and jerk off in another room together?" T'zur's a mite bit put off, it seems. Tziveth, meanwhile, follows Virisceth into twilight and the darkness beyond, at home, near invisible with the darkness of his own hide. He isn't set on fighting others for the win, full of confidence as he surges after the green.

"Because the first flight is always like that, didn't you know?" Ghena supplies helpfully throwing a wink over her shoulder at the blonde bronzerider as she falls into step with him. At T'zur's comment she snerks, "That or If Knoth and your friend don't catch, I'd be happy to see to his - needs." Unapologetically ogling the blonde.

Thoughts are thoughts, and while the green may be slick and untouchable -- for now -- Tziveth has patience, knowing the inevitability of what will come. His thoughts are full of shadows and flickering movements -- alien and uncomfortable itself, but familiar in that way that darkness, once touched and known and accepted, is long comforting. He surges past those other dragons without any acknowledgement. (To High Reaches dragons from Tziveth)

"I don't know, did you want to?" J'nason is MOSTLY JOKING. Unlike all the flight tight-wads this bronzerider is as loose as a crazy man's screw. "Not my typical twist, but it happens sometimes. You know, the friend you were telling me about. Unless by nice you actually meant nice." The last is added as an aside as J'nason stuffs the last of his roll into his mouth. That makes it harder to respond to Ghena, but he'll do his best in his next pose. Hephaisth takes some time to get all reved up. Really, he's not sure about the integrity of her engine. Maybe if she'd just let him get, ahem, into it he could take care of it for her.

Shivering heavily, arms wrapped around her torso, Ellerey runs as fast as she can to the guest weyr, where the tall woman immediatey sets up an encampment beside the bed. She doesn't tease or urge like her lifemate, however. Instead, there's glowers of mistrust and a little confusion at all the people present, the woman's teeth baring a couple of time as she glares at everything, everyone. Heavy boots thunk around as the greenrider paces off *her* area, trying to then ignore the other humans in here with her.

Of course the bluerider makes a pass at his friend. T'zur, perhaps used to it, makes a face. "Suppose I could take on the twins by myself--" he starts, sounding confident, at least, until J'nason reminds him. "Oh. Um." There's something awkward in his expression, fortunately saved from answering by the ready excuse of his gaze falling on Ellerey as they reach the guest weyr. He exhales a sharp breath, and with a sudden grin, dares to cross the line she's drawn. Not by over much -- just strolling casually into her area and leaning against the wall -- like he wants to see her reaction.

Darkness meets darkness, though slighty different forms of them, and vicious Virisceth approves, trilling (more like growling roughly) at Tziveth. For Hephaisth, there's a screech that's not of anger, but of dares and evil promises - she'll drown him in her lubricants if he can take them - Knioth and the other males simply eyed by furiously-whirling red facets. Keep up, boys...or ELSE. (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

"Quarter-mark bet that whoever wins winds up looking like a scratching post." Ghena marks when arriving and taking a moment to smooth the silver blue fabric of her tunic. Silver claws catch the light as the blue wings wide to battle his way closer.

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth would like to note here that her oils are //probably// not very good if he's going to drown in them. Too full is as bad as too empty. He can take care of that too though. Don't worry.

The green's growling approval is taken as tacit invitation by Tziveth, tendrils of his shadowy thoughts spiralling out and seeking to touch and encapture her -- her thoughts, her attention, her distraction -- long enough for him to be able to wing closer to the agile green and maybe, just maybe, capture her there, too. (To High Reaches dragons from Tziveth)

"DUDE. What happened." Ugh, J'nason wants the 411 and this damn flight is getting in the way of him finding more about this. But now T'zur is over there and there's a blond here making a move. "Well," a bright smile for the woman, "One of us might just take you up on that. Never leave a lady in.... need."

Oh, you motherfucker. T'zur dares to cross Ellerey's 'hard' line? NOBODY fucking does that when she's finally put her foot down. And so, instead of launching a punch at the bronzerider, she moves to slam a brutal *stomp* of her workboot on his foot's arch, if possible. It'll hurt like a sunnuvabitch if it connects, that's for damned sure, maybe even require a stop in at the Healers, if it connects perfectly. Ghena's comment of scratching posts earns the smarmy bluerider a look that promises lots of angry pain, if Elle gets a chance to inflict it on her. Hey, wait! J'nason is one of HER potentials, and when Ghena puts a few moves on him, Ellerey's suddenly shoving her rangy form between them, and mantling like a hawk over meat at the 'prettier' bronzerider. MINE!

J'nason's curiosity will just have to wait a bit longer, since T'zur is definitely distracted now. The twitch of lips seems borne out of a confidence undoubtedly won in part from his bronze: it doesn't even waver when Ellerey stomps up to him. He reaches out a hand with the intent of pulling her off balance, though how well that works might be in debate when, moments later, he's swearing up a treat, half sliding down the wall to clutch at his foot.

"Ouch man." No need to start a fight here. Ellerey has this DOWN. /random aside from J'nason. (Sorry T'zur.)

"Better if you take me up on the offer." Ghena is content to flirt with the bronzerider while her blue is chasing the violent green, because fuck if she's going anywhere near Ellerey after that violent little outburst. "Damned blue would pick a violent one." laughing a bit boldly at poor T'zur's pain. "I think your friend, might need a healer more than a bedwarmer after this."

Virisceth's sudden roar of anger echos Ellerey's possessiveness, the dark green snapping her teeth over her shoulder at Knioth as if wishing to imbed her choppers into the blue. She's speeding like the green demon-dragon she is through the sky, and burning up her energy without a care for the consequences. There's no wasteful aerobatics with this one, just rising higher and higher where the atmosphere thins out some, allows for greater speed. « Weaklings! » Virisceth's rare contralto screeches like twisting metal. You DARE! (To High Reaches dragons from Virisceth)

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth dares because Virisceth NEEDS his handy way with tools to make dragons like her just purr. She wants to purr, right? RIGHT. She wants to pur.

Dappled in deep forest browns, Tyth doesn't blend as well as some blues might with the dusk light but nor does he stand out either. He's a hunter who values stealth, who knows the right moment to show his hand and that moment has yet to come. For the time being, he simply gives chase, waiting for Virisceth to tire... to be come vulnerable... to fulfill her destiny as his prey. His thoughts are likewise kept close to his chest, but a brush of his mind reveals something feral and focused with only the slightest crunch of underbrush under foot and the burn of primal desire to mark him as a pursuer. (To High Reaches dragons from Tyth)

Silver blue, bold as a knight-errant, Knoith is not dissuaded from the chase by the vicious snap of dark jaws, winging closer, careful to avoid the shadowy bronze in the process. (To High Reaches dragons from Knioth)

To High Reaches dragons, Tziveth's pride might -- just might be a little stung by that accusation. Weaklings, indeed. Certainly, the others are, but Tziveth is so much more than they. Through the darkening sky he slides ever-upward, ever-towards her, as confident as this were his home skies, for he belongs in the darkness.

Okay, so technically Tamsin is still chewing when she straggles (late) into the Weyr. It's perhaps a mark of her experience as a brownrider that she seems to have known that she had time to finish her dinner (or at least stuff a little bit more into her mouth) before there was a real chance she'd be needed here; maybe she's just got screwed up priorities. At least there's no food left on her face by the time she's brushed fingers across her mouth and comes to a halt not far from some of the others, taking in the greenrider and the riders who made a more punctual appearance for the wait that leads up to the moment of triumph or failure. "Did I miss anything?" is a question to-- J'nason. Maybe he looks like he knows. Maybe she just doesn't want to ask Ellerey directly, given the violence. Given that her brown eyes only flick toward the bronzerider briefly, it could easily be mistaken to be to, oh, any of the others.

Oh, they'll pay if they try to screw with HER! That's the look in Ellerey's eyes, now, as T'zur grasps as his foot, the woman now glaring holes in Ghena's head as she keeps herself between the bluerider and J'nason. But don't either of you DARE touch! But she's more and more 'with' her green lifemate, feeling the draining of energy, the rapid tiring of muscles and the slipping of frightful WILL into WANT. Knioth/Ghena...she can't stand them; bitch! Tyth is a newer curiosity as he surges forwards from the back of the small pack, his stealth and way of seeing things as 'prey' very understandable to one like her. The other two bronze boys...well, who *wouldn't* be tickled green by their bizarre attentions? The others have already been dismissed. Not worthy. Not dangerous enough. All of this goes through Elle's/Viri's brain as she aggressively analyzes 'them:' humans and dragons. Uh-oh.

There's a groan from T'zur, suddenly watering eyes regarding the other occupants blearily. Pushing against the wall to regain his balance, he starts a hop-shuffle towards the bed that favors his now-injured foot. With Ellerey distracted keeping Ghena and J'nason apart, surely she won't mind if he pilfers the bed for himself? There's not really so much of possession about the acquisition of the bed as there is relief, the former Bendenite sinking down and exhaling, eyes inevitably drawn towards Ellerey, as much wariness as want in the regards.

As Elle stakes her claim, Ghena sighs. "You can't hog us all unless you like that sort of thing." Ghena goading the woman on as Knoth flashes forward in a flash of silver, claws and tail reaching for his prize.

To High Reaches dragons, Tziveth seeks, not just in the physical, but to draw Virisceth closer in the mental space -- to allow the slide of thoughts, what she wants -- to be influenced by his thoughts. After all, darkness calls to darkness, and there's nothing afraid in the bronze's mind -- only shadowy, predatory thoughts, waiting for her arrival, waiting to welcome her home. If nothing else, perhaps the thoughts will draw her brief attention, making the presence of his dark, physical form less visible as gleaming ivory talons flex in anticipation, seeking to draw her nearer with the flick of thin, whipcord tail as he drops in close to her.

To High Reaches dragons, Hephaisth makes his move, tools at the ready to put everything into it's proper place. His mind is focused on the one goal of making each of her gears turn right, and to put into h, er, place what needs to be done so everything warps properly. He'll dive down and try to edge Tziveth out. Just because their RIDERS are buds doesn't mean the soot-soaked bronze is buddy-buddy.

J'nason takes a step backward, hands coming up as if to try to placate the greenrider. "Shh, shh, that's probably not a good thing for your first time." But look, if she is going to INSIST there ARE two girls here... and three guys. Hum. Someone is going to have to watch. Isn't it nice he doesn't say anything outloud? Instead he'll cock an eyebrow at T'zur for taking up the bed. A LITTLE FORWARD HUH.

Tamsin's expression turns to one of deep amusement, eyes bouncing from greenrider to blue- and on to the others, though the look leveled on T'zur holds a flash of sympathy. Dark eyes return to Ellerey, thoughtful, and then the older woman rocks back a step before turning to to find somewhere with a little more personal space; she's probably just helpfully volunteering to be the odd man out.

Much was held back, kept hidden, instinct driving Tyth as the moment comes. He springs into action in so much as pressure of wings against wind allows. Agile for his size, he dodges, twists and tries to slip into the right position for an extended limb to ensnare and entangle, to trip up the green, to capture her for his own. It's probably just an overactive imagination who might sense the potential for intense violence in that moment as much as intense passion. (To High Reaches dragons from Tyth)

What bed? This WHOLE PLACE is *hers*, but Ellerey can't oggle the whole damned weyr while keeping track of those before her. Spat out to Ghena is a hissed, "I'll do what the *fuck* I WANT." Bitch. A step forward to the bluerider to show how serious she is suddenly transitions into a sidestep as - far above - Virisceth seeks to avoid Knioth's reach for her. Another snap of those wicked, long, steely-looking teeth of the green's might make contact with whatever bit of the poor blue is closest in order to prove the point that she *doesn't* want any part of him, while starry-touched, black claws look to reach for that predator/prey brown Tyth. Surprise! Maybe Tamsin's a 'safe' bet for Ellerey? But then there's a bump and shuffle of two bronze bodies too close for flying safety...and the already spent (and suddenly falling) Virisceth finds the brown out of reach, deciding in her momentary surprise and bit of panic at her lack of wings to lash out her tail and neck for Tziveth, whom she *knows* is big enough, wicked enough, and of a like mind enough to keep her airborne...and in blackest bliss. « MIIIINE... » is screeched/hissed/cooed.

Ghena hisses as Knoith takes a hit, but the Blue rights himself well enough. She sidesteps the greenrider as the green is caught, reaching to snag J'nason by the wrist and tug him away. "I think we better leave your friend to his rewards."

Is it Virisceth's thought that is echoed back at her, or Tziveth's, just as possessive: « Mine. » Near-black tail and neck wraps around the greens, wings spreading wide to hold them aloft, to extend the time out here in the darkness where they both belong. Beneath, it's with a groan that T'zur pushes himself up, like he's preparing to leave, but his breath catches. He's up, suddenly, but this time with a different purpose, moving to grab at Ellerey and pull her away from the others, towards him. He'll regret that later, for his foot if nothing else, but for now he's all consumed by a need that outweighs such things.

OUCH, not so much for J'naseth, but Hephaisth had actually //really// wanted to see what was under the hood there. Gruff swearing from the scarred bronze as he peels away. THIS is why he doesn't bother with women. Damn their vibes that make him ignore his own good sense. J'nason does a little cheer for his friend - seriously, good going man, before turning to the blond. "Shall I?" All the roguish charm gets piled onto the words.

Tyth is vocal in his defeat. Anger and frustration knit in the roar that leaves him as he shifts from pounce to dip and glide, not showing signs of returning immediately to the ground, but getting away from the 'happy couple,' in the very least. Tamsin, likewise, doesn't linger, quickly retracing her steps out to the bowl. If she hurries, she can get dessert!

As Virisceth abandons herself into Tziveth's sustaining hold, growling and screeching a little still the whole time they're together, Ellerey finds her green's utter lust subsuming her own reactions, and she fairly hurls herself at (poor) T'zur, who, when he wakens, will indeed find his hide to be a wasteland of gouges, rakes, a few hard bites, and enough bruises. Tziveth gets only one playful nip that barely breaks the hide, and a little flex of claws to sweetly gouge his hide to mark the bronze as *Viri's*. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------<

It's late, later, with most of the Weyr -- including a satisfied pair of dragons -- deep asleep. Something makes T'zur stir, though, briefly fighting through the layers of blankets and naked limbs (that one's not his!), before he groans. Just about everything hurts, and it means for the moment, he's more distracted by the bite on his upper arm than the naked girl he's sharing a bed with. He looks kind of... confused, all told.

It's only T'zur's groan that finally awakens a satiated and tired Ellerey, the few Turns she's spent being Virisceth's human half having helped the woman to develop a certain extra awareness of dangerous or oddball situations. *This* one definitely counts as oddball, and the strangeness of waking up groggily with another person in (her?) bed is reason for the greenrider to blink thickly, then turn over to stare at her bedmate owlishly. There's no shrieking, shrinking, blushing, covering up, etcetera. She just continues to peer at T'zur, and try and remember the whys of this situation. Until she notices the dings and dents she put into his human hide. Wince. "Oh jays... I'm sorry."

"Why'd you bite me," T'zur, still mystified, actually looks at Ellerey, now. The fact that she's naked and looking at him, and apologizes likely mollifies whatever else he might be thinking. With a sharp exhale, he shifts, dropping onto his back with a wince.

The way those dark eyes of hers peer mostly at each wound she inflicted on the poor bronzerider might speak of empathy, even regret. But the way the young woman murmurs out a slightly businesslike, "You'll need to go to the Healers to get those cleaned out," makes her sound perhaps strangely in control of the situation. Beat. "I can do it, if you'd rather not show them...but you'd need to find a supply of numbweed, gauze, and redwort yourself. I don't have access to them." But she has the ability to utilize them, apparently. Cautiously, two long fingers reach out, and seek to touch feather-light against whatever bit of the man's skin is closest and uninjured. Finally, somewhat guiltily is murmured, "It's Virisceth...her way." Sigh. "Who and what she is. She...took more of me in that flight and gave me more of herself." Which was claws and teeth.

Grimacing, T'zur says, "Either way, I'd have to go to the healers. But... I guess at least you've already seen me naked," he mutters, with a sidelong look and a slight twitch of lips. His weight shifts briefly, like he's going to move now, though he stills when she touches him. Silent for a beat or two, the former Bendenite visibly swallows, before he finally says, "I understand. Tziveth, sometimes he..." he trails off, and only reiterates, "I understand."

When T'zur stills, Ellerey very slowly seeks to move closer, trying to lightly touch one of her shoulders to his, if he'll allow. It's human contact, and hopefully it;s reassuring, maybe warmer than what happened between them before. "My grandmother is a Journeyman Healer. She taught many of us how to field dress things like this. It's...helpful, when you're on the road most of the time." Word of his nakedness earns the bronzer a slightly wry smirk, which fades at word of Tziveth. Looking a little haunted for a moment, the greenrider notes with a hint of what might actually be fear, "Yes. I remember that, now. She was very attracted to him because of...that. She's..." Swallow. "Dark." And so very much more.

The bronzerider doesn't seem to mind her stealing closer at all; the gesture draws T'zur's gaze as he listens to her talk. Something stirs in his expression when she talks of the open road, and he doesn't speak for a time. Finally, though, he says: "You're not on the open road any more." A series of emotions flicker across his expression at her latter words, but he finally just exhales, grimacing as he shifts, stretching an arm around her shoulders with the intent of pulling her closer. "That's what they don't tell you. They're not always exactly what you think they'd be."

When T'zur stills, Ellerey very slowly seeks to move closer, trying to lightly touch one of her shoulders to his, if he'll allow. It's human contact, and hopefully it;s reassuring, maybe warmer than what happened between them before. "My grandmother is a Journeyman Healer. She taught many of us how to field dress things like this. It's...helpful, when you're on the road most of the time." Word of his nakedness earns the bronzer a slightly wry smirk, which fades at word of Tziveth. Looking a little haunted for a moment, the greenrider notes with a hint of what might actually be fear, "Yes. I remember that, now. She was very attracted to him because of...that. She's..." Swallow. "Dark." And so very much more.

The bronzerider doesn't seem to mind her stealing closer at all; the gesture draws T'zur's gaze as he listens to her talk. Something stirs in his expression when she talks of the open road, and he doesn't speak for a time. Finally, though, he says: "You're not on the open road any more." A series of emotions flicker across his expression at her latter words, but he finally just exhales, grimacing as he shifts, stretching an arm around her shoulders with the intent of pulling her closer. "That's what they don't tell you. They're not always exactly what you think they'd be."

"No, I'm not..." is quietly acknowledged, Elle's expression again a mix of wry and a little sad for a moment. "Not for lack of trying. We're away from the Weyr as much as we can be...discovering Pern." Noting those shifts of T'zur's expression, the greenie makes a faintly inquiring arch of brows, then simply (and carefully) tucking parts of her long, slender frame in against his when he puts and arm around her shoulders. Murmured, though not accusingly, "I"m surprised you didn't do the same to me..." maul her..."...if he's much like *her*." A wealth of mixed emotions sits in that one emphasized word. Her not so little monster. A quick nod for those next words brings memories, and they conjure up a faint shudder that raises goosepimples on nude skin that shows at least a passing acquaintence with injuries. "I...suspected that ,from what some of the riders said in passing, but so many of them seem like they're all ga-ga or whatever over their partners..." Siiiigh. "I only Stood at the very last moment to honor a dragon's choice...his, and his rider." And *now* look what she got.

"Sounds nice," T'zur responds, with a genuine exhale. The fact that it's offset by a slight wince as she settles herself against him might ruin the intimacy of the gesture. "He's not... not like that. He's not... physical," the bronzerider struggles to explain, but he tries all the same. There's a slight tension, like he's not all that comfortable in the conversation, and so when she talks of the latter, it makes him smile, wryly: "I took an easy job to run up to Benden Weyr after I'd recovered from an injured knee. I think I was there all of, mm, an hour before I was dumped onto the sands and then... Tziveth happened. Never rightly got the chance to even think about what I was doing. Do you..." he hesitates, pauses, and rephrases the aborted question into a statement, "I don't regret it."

"It *is*. Not even a dragon can take the wanderer out of a Trader..." Ellerey murmurs with restrained relish, her features softening for a moment. "Viri enjoys my pleasure in that...though she doesn't really understand many other...more gentle pleasures." Lip-twist. "I can't blame her for being herself." It's said like a mantra, as if the brunette has told this to herself a thousand times over the few Turns she's been Impressed. For a moment, the greenrider almost seems on the brink of blurting something out to T'zur, but his final words pull her lips tight, draw out a nod, instead. Frankly, she inquires, "What was it like the moment of Impression with him?"

"You were a trader, too?" T'zur is surprised, enough so that his head lifts so that he can better see her expression for a moment. "What family?" While she speaks of Virisceth, and those aborted words, he stays silent, still watching her, however. When she asks about his Impression, he goes still, breathing silently and considering. His voice, when he speaks, is soft: "It was... he felt so... incomprehensible," his lips twist, like it's a word it's taken him a while to come up with. "It was like my brain couldn't cope with everything, but he was the stalwart for my shaky legs, the fierce confident to my unspoken fears. I felt complete, but I didn't know what I'd been missing, before." He glances at Ellerey, as if seeking to determine whether her experience was anything like his, the unspoken question in that gaze.

'You, too?!' is the unspoken look of surprise and pleasure in Ellerey's eyes for T'zur's backwards admission, the young woman nodding a couple of times, grinning at him from her head's rest on his arm. After she mentions a minor (but up and coming) family that caravans between Boll, Tillek, and Fort and 'Reaches, there's the near-inevitable, "And your family?" It's so much more pleasant to talk of their pasts than the present, but there's things to be learned from even pain, and Elle stills to listen intently to her erstwhile lover, nodding in places, silent and perhaps brooding in others. The bronzerider's glance is experienced as heavy, prodding, evocative, but the woman slowly manages to eke out a contralto, "We were missing something that the other...filled." Why does she sound so resigned, even through the faint smile.

"The Beowins," T'zur replies in turn, grinning as much for pride of his former family as their shared pasts. It's the latter words that make him silent, not trying to fight the quiet that follows for some time. Finally: "I think I'll go get some supplies. Stop by the infirmary, get some food, since I missed dinner," his lips twist, wryly. "Bring it back here... if that's okay?"

She looks properly awed - and a little envious plus humored - by T'zur's admission of being a Beowin. "Bet you had your hands in lots of pots - or were working on them - before Benden got you." Grin. And then the reality of now intrudes again, but at least Elle focuses on T'zur's wounds much more, this time. After a nod of agreement (accompanied by a rather warm smile), the greenrider murmurs, "If they give you any fuss about redwort and numbweed...well, mention my name. I've proven my abilities to the Healers...limited as they are." Lips twitch into an almost smirk, and the woman tilts her head up to try and plant a light kiss on that arm of T'zur's. "I'd enjoy that...though you might not." Brow eyes twinkle with dark merriness.

"It was more my brother's thing -- everyone knows he'll take over from my ma some day -- I just liked being out there, meeting people, you know?" T'zur's shoulder twitches briefly in an ill-formed shrug. With a grin, he starts to lever himself out of the bed, though not without a grimace or two. It's when he goes to stand that he lets out another groan, favoring his other leg as he limps about looking for his pants. "Starting to think I might not at that," he says, with a glance over his shoulder, kind of wryly. It might be even odds whether he'll come back once he's dressed.

"Oh..." is all the woman notes back, not giving T'zur any guff, nor teasing him about being a 'lesser' Beowin. "It's not for everyone, that's for sure." Being a Trader, or a leader? Another small look of empathy for the man's pain is soon followed by Ellerey re-wrapping herself in sheets and a light blanket...while surreptitiously looking at the bronzerider's frame, his rear especially. She's only human. Replied with a hint of dark humor, "I won't bite *this* time, I promise. And Virisceth's still wrapped up tight with Tziveth. She's so relaxed, I don't think she'll let him go for awhile." Blink. Wow; Viri's *relaxed*!

T'zur makes a noise by way of neutral response -- he probably hasn't noticed she's watching him, given he doesn't remark on it -- finds his pants and tugs them on, and moments later, finds his jacket. It'll do to keep out the cool spring air. Tugging on his boots, he runs a hand through his hair, and only then glances over his shoulder at her. "Well, then. Guess I've no choice," with a twitch of lips. It fades into another grimace as he shifts his weight, favoring his injured foot as he heads out the door.